Shadows of the Mind
by suerum
Summary: Jaspin of course. An exploration of loss, death, with a particular twist I wanted to put in. Anyway, major character death...
1. Wake Up

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**_A/N: I have no rights or affiliation with the characters presented within this piece_**

_Shadows of the Mind_

_Chapter 1: Wake Up_

"_C'mon wake up, Spinelli," Jason knew he was pleading, but he didn't care, he just needed him to talk to him, say anything. _

"_Hey, Stone Cold, why such a melancholy countenance?" Or "Much as the Jackal is gratified to have indictable proof at last of his Master's feelings for his humble acolyte, he is having trouble with his inspirations and expirations. Perhaps if Stone Cold could loosen his stranglehold on his grasshopper it would be much appreciated."_

_If only he could block his breathing, if only that were possible. "Please, please, Spinelli stop this! Stop fooling around it isn't funny. You have to wake up." _

_He pulled him up, his arms wrapped around the unresponsive form. His eyes, those amazing eyes stared blankly up at the orange tinted night sky of the city. They had filmed over and they hadn't blinked, not once in the last-how long? He had no idea, he thought maybe years, maybe minutes, his lifetime-that he knew for sure. _

"_Jason?" God damn it! It was Lucky Spencer. _

_Jason hadn't even heard the sirens, hadn't heard anything after the sound of a gun and a muffled exclamation as Spinelli had shoved him, so hard. He had no idea the kid had that kind of strength in him. Jason had fallen, had hit his head on the corner of the warehouse wall and while he hadn't lost consciousness he had been dazed and disoriented. _

_That's when the silence had descended, a heavy cloak-like positive absence of sound. It was like the waves that were emitted at certain frequencies that then compressed the air and were recorded by auditory mechanisms such as the human ear, it was like they were frozen. There would never be any sound in the world again except the audible crack that was Jason's heart fracturing. _

_It hurt, it hurt like someone had taken a frozen red-hot poker and stabbed him directly in his coronary muscle splitting it in two. There was the part that used to beat five minutes ago and was now a dead blackened piece of meat. Then there was the part that somehow still put out a half hearted desultory sluggish push towards circulating the blood through this hated live-live that was the insulting, impossible part of it all-body of his. The traitorous part of his heart that dared somehow had the audacity to think that Jason Morgan still needed to breathe in and out and deliver oxygen to the cells of his despised body. _

_It was him, he was supposed to be lying on this filthy dock, his eyes staring sightlessly up, his soul on the way to hell where he deserved to reside. He had crawled over to him and lifted him up. There was a trail of blood curving down from his mouth to his chin. His sweatshirt was a mosaic of Christmas red and green. The green was the starting color and the red had been added as an afterthought, a Spinelli original if you will-all swirls of crimson-clotted and smelling of iron and the loss of hope._

_He really shouldn't be sleeping here. It wasn't safe, there might be more shots fired. He guessed the shooter had seen them both go down and was satisfied at the completion of his night's work. Well, once Spinelli woke up, and it better be soon, Jason would make sure that would be his last and worst mistake. _

"_I have to go Spinelli. I have to go get them. I can't go until you get up. It's dirty and cold and you'll get sick. You need to wake up. I'll take you back to the Penthouse and you can sleep there…"_

"_Jason," Lucky touched his shoulder this time, trying to interrupt the flow of words being spoken to a corpse, the flow that was turning his blood cold as it more than hinted at insanity, at a shattered mind. _

_Lucky's wrist was captured in a vice grip and he instantaneously froze. He knew that if he moved a millimeter, reacted in the least that the bones would be twisted and snapped like a piece of long desiccated kindling._

"_You have Jake, you have Cameron, you have Elizabeth. You took my life. You _cannot_ have Spinelli, he's mine not yours." Each word was gritted out as Jason looked up at him with eyes that Lucky could see even in the murky light were murderous in intent. _

_Jason flung Lucky's hand away as though its touch had contaminated him. Lucky was ashamed to find his whole body was trembling as he massaged his wrist, trying to get the blood circulating once again. He knew it would be ringed with bruises tomorrow that would exactly match Jason's hand span. _

"_You hear that?" His voice had taken on a sing-song quality as he resumed speaking to the macabre figure enfolded in his arms. "You're mine. Damian Spinelli, the Jackal, private investigator, the ace of cyberspace, best friend, brother…son…light aga..against the darkness all of you…" His voice was cracking, his grip intensified but Spinelli didn't seem to mind this time, didn't have any complaints about not being able to breathe. "You saved me, not tonight…" This sure as hell wasn't being saved, this was unendurable agony. "The first time you walked into the penthouse and called me 'dude'. I mean you called Jason Morgan 'dude' and you lived to talk about it." He laughed, it was short and choked but it was genuine. _

"_You stayed when Sam left, you chose me over her. I never said it, and I know, I really know you cared about her too and it tore you up to see us split but you chose me and I was so grateful. I didn't know how to be alone anymore and you stayed. Then with Jake…" He stopped and closed his eyes and rested his chin on the shaggy top of his brother's head._

_Lucky stepped back. This was more than he could bear and he didn't even like either man, truth be told he pretty much hated Jason and thought of Spinelli as an irritant. Still, this was private, this unvarnished grief and these words weren't meant for anyone's ears except the dead. Not only that but if anyone overhead what Jason was saying in this unguarded moment it could be dangerous for Jake. So, Lucky stepped back and created a perimeter around the grieving mobster. He would be sure that no one would interrupt him. _

"_You kept me sane and anchored Spinelli. God! Why couldn't I ever say that, why?" It was practically a whimper as he rocked in unassailable grief. "You connected me to him-from the pregnancy on-the ultrasound picture, trying to video the birth, his first birthday party. You let me talk about him, you kept my secret. You helped me every time I needed it. You backed me up at the Metro Court, the hospital, with the Russians. What am I supposed to do if you're not here? It was meant to be me, always me. I choose this life, not you…you just choose me…" _

_Jason couldn't continue the natural progression of that thought. He had bent over backwards to keep every person that meant the slightest sliver of anything to him safely removed from his life. He had put a moratorium on meeting with Robin, Monica, Elizabeth, Jake and, most recently, he had even restricted Maxie's access to his world. _

_What had he done with regard to the boy lying so still in his arms? Not a fucking thing! One little off hand remark about having him move out, not even quitting working for him, just moving out-like that would have solved thing one. Then when he had protested, he had told himself it was his choice and Jason Morgan always let people make their own choices-except when he didn't. He was such a hypocrite. It wasn't that he couldn't have made Spinelli move out, leave-it was that he hadn't wanted to. He couldn't bear to not have him in his life, to not be able to tell him what he had done that day and see his eyes light up with admiration, respect, and that most valued of emotions-love._

_He sure could have done it. He knew exactly how. It probably wouldn't have taken more than a few strategically placed sentences along the lines of "I want my privacy back," or "You're more trouble than you're worth," or perhaps this capper, "I don't trust you." After two years of residing with the kid, Jason could have destroyed him a million ways from Sunday with a few well chosen words and had him out of his life for good._

_Sure, he could pretend to himself that he cared enough for him that destroying him internally wasn't what he wanted to do to save him externally. It sounded good, except that it was all a lie. He didn't say any of those things because he couldn't stand to see the expression on Spinelli's face, the naked loss of his fragile self-esteem, his caving in on himself that he might very well not recover from. He couldn't destroy Spinelli or kick him out because it would be destroying himself as well. If Spinelli went, metaphorically speaking, so would Jason Morgan or at least his only faint hope of some type of redemption that had started glowing the day the kid walked into the penthouse and called him 'dude'._

_So, instead this is what he got. The kid-stop that! He deserved far better-the light in Jason Morgan's life snuffed out in a filthy alley in the back of a warehouse. Nothing metaphorical about it, there was literal blood on Jason's hands tonight. _

_It was just supposed to be a quick stop. Jason had neutralized the Russian threat in Port Charles-dostavanya. So, tonight they were heading out to grab something to eat. It seemed like a good idea, a step down from the red alert status that had gripped them and the entire city the past couple of months. On their way back he wanted to swing by the warehouse and do a cursory check-make sure that everything was okay. He wasn't really thinking about there being a problem-it was just an itch, an instinct if you will. He sure wasn't considering that he had the most precious civilian in his life along for the trip. _

_All those years, all those times he had looked at a situation from every possible vantage point. He had pondered pros and cons, decided to swallow his natural arrogance and pride when needed. Time after time, he had done that-with Sonny, with himself, hell, even with Jake's kidnapping. _

_Tonight though, every instinct he had ever honed, every piece of common sense he was supposed to possess had gone on vacation. It wasn't Jason who had started to sense something was wrong, who had begun to move before the reverberation of the gun had reached their-no, make that _his_ ears. If you heard the shot that meant the bullet had long since flown the barrel and in this case found its mark. Spinelli never heard the sound-just Jason and that sound would echo down the spiral of his dreams for the rest of his life._

_He wasn't going to wake up, not in a few minutes, not tonight, not ever…_


	2. Father to Father

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**_A/N: I have no rights or affiliation with the characters presented within this piece_**

_Shadows of the Mind_

_Chapter 2: Father to Father_

"_No!" Lucky's head snapped up, he been leaning against a wall, trying to give Jason a decent interval of time to say his goodbyes. It was obvious that he had moved from denial into awareness that the boy he held so tightly in his arms was gone. The soul piercing shout that emanated from Jason caused all the hairs on Lucky's arms and the back of his neck to stand upright in an atavistic response._

"_Spinelli…" it was one dragged out sound that segued into a sustained keening as Jason swayed in an oppression of grief, clutching Spinelli to him in a frantic embrace. The unbearable sounds were issuing out of a mouth which was etched in a rictus of anguish that Lucky found painful to observe. If he could have found a way to plug his ears he would have. _

"_Jason!" Mac had come up beside Lucky, he hadn't even noticed him, all eyes were on the unbelievable spectacle in front of them. Once again, and at full command volume, Mac hollered, "Jason!" He was getting ready to step forward, to hit him, to do whatever was required to stop this awful, intolerable sight that men weren't equipped to watch without placing themselves smack in the position of the mourner-empathy had its limits._

_Mac had moved closer and had actually raised his hand-whether to hit or caress, even he couldn't say-when Jason abruptly stopped. He ceased his unearthly cries, he discontinued his rocking motions, he opened his eyes and seemed once more aware of his surroundings._

_It was Mac who had penetrated the thick veil of grief that encompassed Jason's entire being. Mac, Georgie's father, she who was Spinelli's wise friend and whom he had just mourned a year ago. Jason and Mac were natural enemies, players on opposite sides of the law. _

_They were also personal enemies, at least as far as Mac was concerned, due to the fact that Jason and Spinelli in his turn had been successively involved with every one of Mac's three girls. He hadn't forgotten or forgiven the connection between Jason and Robin that occurred twenty years ago. He had flown into a rage when he had found Spinelli kneeling over Georgie's body, firmly convinced that he had been the cause of her death. Then more recently, when Spinelli and Maxie had become attached at the hip, Mac had nearly burst a blood vessel trying to unsuccessfully separate them. No, Mac Scorpio had no brief for Jason Morgan and by extension Damian Spinelli._

_Yet, none of that mattered tonight, none of it. For the first time it was crystal clear to Mac Scorpio that he wasn't standing next to a mob boss who had just lost his tech support or even his best friend. No, Mac recognized the scene for what it was-a father mourning his beloved child lost to violence. A father who hadn't managed to protect that child, who would have given his own life without a first, never mind a second, thought to prevent it. That wasn't how it happened though, the child had been taken and all that was left was ashes. _

_Mac flashed back to a year ago, he would have behaved just like Jason if he could have-if he wasn't the Police Commissioner, if he didn't have another daughter to comfort, if he didn't have this young man, now lying dead in Jason's arms, in his sights for the murder and as the overflow vessel for all his anger and grief. _

_He cringed inwardly thinking of all the times he had screamed and yelled at an unresisting Damian Spinelli. He had poured every bit of his frustration and impotence about his inability to control the mob influence that was so prevalent in his city out on the frail shoulders of this young man. He had couched it all-oh, so carefully-as the railings of a father petrified for the safety of his one remaining daughter. He had stood behind the armor of righteousness. Mac had expended energy and effort on making the improbable case that a computer geek who couldn't actually handle a gun without shooting himself in the foot was the responsible party for the conflagration that had consumed Port Charles. _

_Spinelli had taken every one of his rants standing his quailing ground, sometimes not able to look Mac in the face, at other times quietly declaring his intention to stay in Maxie's life. Now, he would never need to yell at Spinelli again, the young man would never compromise Maxie's safety. Mac supposed he ought to feel relieved._

_Instead what he felt was a combination of pity and shame. Shame that he had browbeaten a young man who had more compassion flowing through his veins then anyone Mac had ever known. He knew Spinelli loved Maxie. He only hoped that Jason knew Spinelli loved him, because that was all that you could take away from a time like this-the love between the living and the dead. Mac knew that for all his outbursts which had originated somewhere deep in his need to protect his family, his children-that he had never, not once, wanted this boy Jason's child to be lying beyond reach in a pool of his own blood in a dark, filthy alley in this godforsaken city. _

_The pity that was simpler really, even though he still couldn't tolerate Jason Morgan either as a career criminal or a destroyer of people's lives. Tonight he was merely another parent who had lost his only child to the implacable cycle of violence that had held this city in its grip the entire time Mac had resided here. He ran both his hands through his hair in a gesture of emotional exhaustion, tears glittered in his eyes as he looked down at a young man who had exuded warmth, intelligence, and promise and now was an empty shell, the male counterpart to his darling Georgie…_

"_Mac," his voice was hoarse sounding, a legacy of his recent extremity, "is this how it was for you-with Georgie?"_

"_Yeah," Mac fought to keep his voice on an even keel. He had to help ground Jason if he possibly could. "Pretty much, it was the worst thing that ever happened to me."_

_Jason looked up at him, his eyes glittering in the dim light. "I'm sorry for your loss," he said formally, "I don't think I ever said anything to you. I should have, it's just the way things are between us… I had Spinelli to look after at the time." He looked back down at the still figure in his arms. "He loved her, you know, it broke something in him that never quite was fixed though Maxie…" he gave a little half grin, "Well, I don't need to tell you what a force of nature Maxie is. She helped him get over it." He was rocking again, possibly slipping back towards the edge._

"_They helped each other," Mac said quietly, trying to keep Jason in the conversation. "I wasn't very fair to Spinelli but I owe him a lot. He really cared about Maxie, saw who she truly was. He made her want to be a better-no, she was a better person because of him."_

"_Yeah, he doe-did that a lot," he gulped in despair as tears coursed down his cheeks. "I don't think I can do this Mac, go on, not without him in the world…"_

"_I know how you feel, Jason. I've been there, still am there some days…" He crouched down next to Jason. It didn't feel right looming over him while he was so vulnerable. Tentatively, he reached a hand over and closed Spinelli's eyelids. It was better not having that disconcerting stare of nothingness coming from eyes that had radiated life. _

_Jason nodded his head as in acknowledgment of a favor. Mac had done what he couldn't. "So, how do you make it through those days, those times-this time?" _

_He was begging for a magic formula, a set of instructions that he could implement so that he could see his way clear to continue walking on the planet's surface. Truth be told he really couldn't see a single reason to right at this moment. Well, there was always his old standby-revenge but he seemed to be lacking the cold fury that was his usual propellant in that direction. When he looked inside himself there seemed only to be a vacuum that sucked up everything creating nothing but an internal void._

"_Well," Mac hesitated, what he was about to say applied to him, not Jason, still… "I had Maxie and Robin, they needed me, even Felicia. That got me through the early days, that and searching for the slime ball that killed her." He looked down at Spinelli remembering, "It was Spinelli and Maxie and Nicholas Cassidine, they were the ones that finally got Diego Alcazar, made him pay." _

_He had died-strangled-entangled in chains after almost taking out his second daughter. Mac's only regret was that he hadn't been there to see it for himself. He knew Jason didn't have other children. So, he couldn't believe it but Mac Scorpio, Port Charles Police Commissioner, was actively suborning Jason Morgan to indulge his violent tendencies, to go out and seek vengeance. _

"_No more Russians," he began, speaking slowly and speculatively._

"_What?" _

_Jason had been thinking about Jake, trying to decide if he counted, weighed in on the side of Jason staying around. If he couldn't claim him, what difference did it make? Still, maybe the chance to see him occasionally, watch him grow up. He looked down at Spinelli. He knew for sure which way his vote would go. Echoes sounded in his brain, "The best father in the world…" Well, that theory had literally been shot to hell tonight. So, when Mac spoke, he hadn't heard him, hadn't even been in the neighborhood. _

"_I said, no more Russians. All their holdings were torched two weeks ago and Sasha Donev was assassinated before that." He said it all neutrally. He didn't know how much Jason had to do with any of it, though Mac had his suspicions. He wasn't really that unhappy to have them gone. The place for once had been pretty peaceful until tonight which led him back to his purpose. "So, it couldn't have been a Russian hit. That leaves the Zacchara organization or a random shooting…"_

"_Wasn't random, was a hit," Jason spoke absently, not even aware of what he had said. He was on auto-pilot._

_Mac nodded, if Jason said it was a hit, that was that. "Leaves the Zacchara's, I guess." He let it dangle. _

_He would let Jason catch on to the implications by himself, anything to engage him, to get him over the first roadblock of grief. Who would ever have thought Mac Scorpio would have been babysitting a stone cold killer and in so doing be triggering those very homicidal instincts that he had spent years trying to jail him for. _

_He had another question, he was pretty sure this would be the activation one, the thing that would wake Jason up and get him back on his feet. It was all Mac was able to offer him. He hoped it would be enough. "Who was the target-you or Spinelli?" Mac already knew the answer, he just needed Jason to realize it also and all that it meant._

_He almost-almost-regretted it the moment he asked it. Jason's eyes were wide stretched and Mac actually saw the apathy in them be overwhelmed by an incoming flood of desolation. He was remembering, it showed as his face contorted and he was transported back in time. _

"_Me, I was the target. I had no clue, none. I didn't hear or see or sense a goddamned thing!" Bitterness and self-condemnation mingled in his voice. "It…it was Spinelli, he knew-saw something, heard something-I don't know. He pushed me. He's always shoving people out of danger." _

_He looked up at Mac, challenging him to remember the time he had been hit full on by a car to save Maxie. Mac could have pointed out that she wouldn't have been there in the first place except for Spinelli but it would serve absolutely no useful purpose. So, he just nodded, he was actually grateful in a twisted sort of way. _

"_He saved you." Mac said it flatly, not embellishing it in any way._

"_Yeah, he did." Jason closed his eyes, desperately wishing for an alternative outcome. "Why did he do that?" He was asking a general rhetorical question, asking the universe not Mac._

"_Because he loved you, Jason," Mac chose to answer it. "He picked you over himself, that's love. Now you owe him. I don't think Spinelli would be best pleased if this chance he gave you was just squandered on a late night motorcycle ride or an 'accident' while you were cleaning your gun."_

_Jason looked at him startled. He didn't realize he had been that transparent. He sighed as he shook his head in resigned acceptance. "You're right. He'd be pretty pissed at me." The smallest glimmer of a smile flashed across his lips. "Can't have the ire of the Jackal aroused," he murmured more to himself than to Mac._

_They sat for a few more moments in a strangely companionable silence, each reflecting on memories and images of their dead children. Jason stirred and this time when he looked at Mac there was a shift in his expression. His eyes were icy and his face was all jutting planes. _

"_Zacchara?" He said it in a flat dead voice that sent shivers up Mac's spine. "That would make it…"_

_Mac just looked at him. He and Jason both knew that Mac Scorpio, Police Commissioner of Port Charles, had walked as far down the communal path of grief as was possible. The gate in the fence had been closed and they were once again staring across it as titular enemies with a shared interest. It was understood that Jason would do what he had to and that Mac wouldn't pursue him unless there was evidence left behind. Each man knew that wouldn't happen. _

_There was one last service Mac could offer Jason and then they would have to go their separate ways, at least for tonight. "Jason, let's get your boy off of the ground. There's a gurney over here and they can take him in-do what needs to be done."_

_Jason looked down at his son, reflexively his arms closed around him. He knew that Spinelli wasn't going to be allowed to lie in peace. He had died violently and the law dictated an autopsy. He hated it but was as powerless to stop it as he had been ineffectual at saving him earlier. It seemed that all Jason ever did was fail Spinelli. _

_Jason sighed, it was time, Mac was right. He started to unfold his legs, they had grown stiff and cold as he sat there. Jason found he couldn't hold Spinelli and get up at the same time._

"_Give him to me," Mac's voice was gentle, "just until you're up."_

_Jason nodded his acceptance of the offer. Delicately and with the greatest care the young man was transferred from one father to another. Spinelli's head and limbs dangled bonelessly. Mac almost dropped him as he felt an unexpected paroxysm of grief jolt through him. If he felt this way how much worse must it be for Jason he thought with a sudden flare of compassion._

"_I'll take him," Jason took Spinelli back into his arms for the last time. _

_He didn't remove his eyes from his face as he walked slowly over the coroner's van where the attendants were patiently waiting with a gurney. With overt reluctance he placed him on the plastic surface of the mattress. For one surrealistic moment it looked as though Jason were contemplating climbing on the gurney and lying down with Spinelli. Instead, he placed his forehead against his and said something that was inaudible even to those closest by. _

_Jason stepped back and away letting the attendants collapse the gurney legs and load it into the back of the van. He watched as they closed the doors, cutting off his view of Spinelli. He watched as they climbed into the front and started the engine. He watched as the van pulled away. He watched until the tail lights had disappeared from view._

_Jason cocked his head as though hearing something. He turned and searched once again for Mac. Walking back towards him, his head stayed tilted in a listening position. He nodded his head as though agreeing to something. _

_Watching him, Lucky felt as disturbed as he had earlier when he thought that Jason was walking a narrow tightrope between insanity and sanity. Right now it looked as though the rope had broken dropping Jason into the abyss of crazy with an extra helping of bizarre on the side. He knew the guy had just lost the person closest to him but this was just creepy!_

"_Mac? I just wanted to know-about Maxie. I can tell her if you want. Spinelli," he paused and a strange look came over his face, like a person trying to hold two conversations at the same time. "Spinelli wouldn't want her to be alone."_

"_Maxie!" Mac hadn't thought about what this would do to her. The one thing he knew for sure, now that the fence was back in place, was that he didn't want Jason Morgan anywhere near her. Recollecting himself, he managed to say, "Thanks for the offer, Jason. I think I'll call Robin and we'll go talk to her together. She won't be alone between us and Lulu. There will be all kinds of people to take care of her."_

_Once more Jason zoned out for a moment before responding. Mac and Lucky exchanged uneasy glances. They weren't sure what the responsible thing to do here was. They didn't want to try and get Jason Morgan in for a psych consult, the thought of the mayhem that would ensue since they knew he wouldn't go quietly was daunting. Still, if he was losing it, they had a responsibility to both Jason and the citizens of Port Charles…_

_Jason resolved the quandary for them. "That's acceptable. As long as she is surrounded by those she loves and that love her, we...I can be satisfied with those arrangements. Please convey my sincerest condolences to her." He turned to leave, purpose once more evident in his movements. _

"_Mac," Jason had stopped but didn't turn to face them. "I am very grateful for all your aid and succor this evening. It made an intolerable situation survivable. I'm indebted to you-and you as well, Lucky." The last was an obvious afterthought. With that Jason strode off into the night, never once looking back._

"_Aid and succor!" Lucky burst out, unable to keep quiet. "What the hell was that?"_

"_I have no idea," Mac shook his head soberly. _

_He had done what he could for Jason Morgan. Now it was time for him to go be with his daughter and to get her through another death in her young life. He only hoped her heart could accept another crack in its surface. Somehow, Mac knew this was going to be as bad, maybe even worse than with Georgie-this time there would be no Spinelli to catch her…_


	3. Mind's Companion

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**_A/N: I have no rights or affiliation with the characters presented within this piece_**

_Shadows of the Mind_

_Chapter 3: Mind's Companion_

_A winter fog was starting to roll in off the harbor. For now it was just sending wispy tendrils up and down the narrow alleys and streets of the waterfront. Soon though it would intensify and thicken and then someone would be hard pressed to see their own hand six inches from their face. _

_Jason was searching the crevices of his mind, trying to find the voice… It had started just as the coroner's van had finally driven off the edge of his field of vision. It had been familiar and welcome and all at once he was no longer alone. It masked the endless ache, the vacant space that had consumed and defined him ever since he had first realized that the Spinelli he held in his arms wasn't Spinelli at all. No, not Spinelli but instead some alien being sticky with blood that looked like someone's idea of a bad Halloween prank. _

_Jason thought that Spinelli had left, had flown away to some place that he knew without a doubt was dazzling-the determinate definition of light-though it would have to go a long way to match the incandescence that was Spinelli's soul. He had been convinced that he at least was at peace no matter what desolation he left behind him. _

_Jason approved of the concept of Spinelli in a place-or a dimension or a sphere or a what have you-where he would be recognized and valued for what was intrinsic rather than constantly being judged on the extrinsic. Maybe, just maybe, that idea could be enough to enable Jason to fumble on in this world a while longer. Yet, that pitiful concord he might have made with the bitch that was fate, it was all off now since he had heard the voice. He'd heard it and now wanted it, no-required it-to continue to function. _

"_This is the deal," he informed whoever or whatever was in charge on this dreadful, bleak night. "You want me to stay. You give me back the voice." _

_He really didn't care about going, no matter what he had said to Mac. After all, it was unlikely that he and Spinelli were heading to the same place. If it turned out by some miracle they were-well, he could always twist him around his little finger. Jason would just tell him that he missed him and he didn't want to stay here without him-it had the advantage of being totally true. So, perhaps Spinelli would grouse a little but Jason was pretty sure he (the Spinelli he knew anyway) would be so flattered and awed that Jason had chosen him (he should have done it a lot time ago) that he wouldn't mind the little pesky details about how he had gotten there. Besides, his ticket was supposed to have been punched tonight anyway. It just meant Jason would be doing his bit to bring things back into a proper alignment, back to the way they were meant to be to begin with._

_So, if whoever sent the voice still wanted him around. "Well, it better pretty much be a case of on-demand talking and no pay per listen bullshit either." _

_Jason had never before been as emotionally involved in a negotiation as he was this time around. Yet, he knew that you could only bargain well when you came from a position of strength, not as a supplicant. Offering his life which didn't seem to mean squat to him right now, though it appeared it was somehow important to someone else, that was a no brainer. Either he would stay breathing and get the voice as his payment or he'd go and maybe get to see Spinelli or at least be rewarded with oblivion. Really, it was pretty much a coin toss with a slight bias towards the seeing Spinelli option. _

_He didn't understand what he had lost, what he had been missing until the first words had ricocheted around his brain. It was strange like stories Jason had heard where people claimed to receive radio transmissions through their dental fillings. _

"_Stone Cold, you need to talk to His Comissionership concerning Maximista…"_

_At first, it hadn't even registered, it was like getting water in your ear when you took a shower or went swimming. He had to resist the urge to tip and jerk his head to try and dislodge the water or, as in this case, the voice. _

"_Stone Cold, the Jackal needs your assistance in this endeavor, he is incapable of doing it without your cooperation." It was absolutely him, it was Spinelli and he was lodged inside Jason's head._

"_Spinelli?" He knew he was going crazy but only around ten percent of him was even concerned about it. Meanwhile, the other ninety percent was ecstatic to once again be hearing the voice, the words that he had just a moment ago thought silenced forever. "Is it really you?"_

"_In the flesh-well, perhaps to be more accurate in the neurons of your brain Stone Cold but it is of no matter. The more pressing concern is that I, that is the Jackal, require you to seek out Maximista's over protective but loving father in order to discern what is to be done."_

"_Done about what, Spinelli? Jason was already turning and looking for Mac._

"_Maximista, she has yet to hear the news of the Jackal's untimely demise and we-that is you and I-needs must express our desire to do anything feasible to ameliorate Maximista's distress upon receipt of said communication."_

_So, Jason had gone over to Mac and Lucky and had asked in a strange mix of Spinelli-speak and his normal idiom about Maxie. He needed to know whether they wanted him-manifestly Jason-but in reality Spinelli, to break the news to her, to comfort her. Jason wasn't really surprised at Mac's refusal, he understood that he didn't want him anywhere near his grieving daughter. Jason couldn't blame him, he wouldn't have wanted someone like himself near his daughter-if he had one-either. _

_Jason knew Spinelli-the one in his head-had been disappointed at Mac's response but he seemed to appreciate his motivation and to recognize his limits in this unique (and that was putting it mildly) situation. Jason hadn't missed the conferring glance that passed between Mac and Lucky as they speculated about his mental state and what, if anything, they should do about it. _

_He'd taken that as his cue to leave. He wanted to be alone with the voice, with Spinelli. Also, he was finding it harder to control what was happening to him. He thought it best if he wasn't around anyone until he figured out what exactly was occurring and how to deal with. _

"_Anyway," he told himself grimly, "I have some business to take care of that can't wait."_

_So, Jason had walked away but Spinelli and his damned manners had almost tripped him up. He'd been forced to stop and to thank Mac and even Lucky for their help. It was all Spinelli, none of it Jason-although he did grudgingly acknowledge what Mac had done for him on the worst night of his life. Still, he would have left it all unsaid, but not the kid-oh, no, he never met a pleasantry that was better left unuttered. Jason cringed at the dead giveaway that was illustrated by the words coming out of his mouth. Then, as he was finally permitted to move away, he could clearly hear Lucky's incredulous comment._

_Jason had to agree with him. "Aid and succor!" he growled once more to himself under his breath. "Who the hell talks like that?" _

_Jason knew exactly who spoke like that and it wasn't him. So, what happened when they moved away and were finally out of sight on a deserted street in the old section of Port Charles? The voice stopped, just quit cold, that's what happened. Now, that he could listen and reply without people looking to fit him for a strait jacket there wasn't a peep out of the kid. That's when Jason started the search for the voice, the bargaining process to get it back. He needed it…_

_It was no good. There wasn't any reply and there wasn't any interior conversation courtesy of the Jackal in his head. Really, it was ironic the way Jason had spent literally years trying to get Spinelli to talk less and here he was promising absolutely anything if he would just say something. He could chatter away as much as he wanted, the more the better from Jason's brand new perspective. Nope, there was nothing, just an unrelieved silence that was Jason's new diametrically opposed definition of hell…_

_He was walking aimlessly down one of the harbor streets of Port Charles' historic district. It was lined on either side with venerable brownstones, each one well preserved and tended. The buildings loomed up out of the ever increasing mistiness, soon it would be considered a full fledged fog. As if to emphasize the point, Jason could hear the booming of a fog horn off towards the harbor. _

_Antique street lamps tried their hardest to penetrate the white gloom Yet, the best they appeared to be able to do was produce an ellipse of yellowish light at each lamp's base that enabled passersby to see a few feet on either side of them before once again being swallowed up by the ever thickening moistly pallid gloom._

_Without the voice, without an indication of if or whether or when it would return, Jason once again found himself in the grip of an all-consuming, newly reinforced raw grief. "Spinelli," he groaned, suddenly feeling sick, his legs were rubbery and unable to support him any longer._

_He grabbed the object nearest him, one of the streetlamps, it was either that or crash into the earth. The lamp stood there unresisting neither helping nor hindering Jason's slide down, his lost fight against the force of gravity. Jason found himself splayed on the ground in an undignified position his legs stretched out in front of him, his back propped against the neutral lamp, his head lolling on his neck as he fought an up rush of nausea. He looked like a drunk and appearances weren't that deceiving. He pretty much felt like one too though he hadn't had the benefit or the expense of consuming alcohol to reach this unsought condition of inebriated mimicry. _

_Intermingled with the uncontrollable anguish that Jason felt was the surprisingly bitter feeling of jealousy. "Maxie," he thought with a surge of hostility. "That's why he came back, to help Maxie, because he was worried about Maxie." Tears of anger, tears of grief, one and the same were rolling down his cheeks unchecked. "She's got Mac, Robin, Lulu, Patrick, Kate… All I had was Spinelli and now he's gone and when he returns it's for her, not for me…" The unfamiliar sensation of wallowing in self-pity absorbed him fully for a few moments. Another thought struck him, "What if she gets the voice, maybe that's why he's gone he went to her, he chose her." Jason closed his eyes, he couldn't bear it, not if Maxie could hear Spinelli and he couldn't. "She never even decided if she loved him or not, never told him, just keep him hanging on and hoping…"_

"_Unlike all those times when you clearly professed your emotions for your very own grasshopper?" The voice was his but it possessed an atypical edge. "Perhaps the Stone Cold Pot is unfairly blackening the Maximista kettle," it continued dryly. _

"_Spinelli," Jason straightened, suddenly he felt lighter. "You're back!"_

"_The Jackal had never departed, he was just…pondering." Spinelli continued, "You do realize that there is no competition between my feelings, my regard for you and for Maximista? I hold you both equally in high esteem. She possesses or did my romantic heart. While you Jason, you have my full fealty and love as my one true haven, my family in all ways that constitute that connection outside the bonds of genetics, of blood."_

"_I don't care about blood Spinelli." Jason felt ashamed at what Spinelli had said, that Jason hadn't ever told him how much he meant to him. _

_It had been unfair and hypocritical of him to blame Maxie for never telling him whether or not she loved him in an amorous sense. She had certainly done a clearer and more concrete job of telling him how much she cared for him in every other way-even if it only was platonic. _

_Jason though hadn't ever gotten past a few gruff utterances of Spinelli being like "family". He had certainly never come close to telling him that he loved him, he had always thought his actions would speak for him. He vaguely believed that eventually he would tell Spinelli how he felt about him-maybe on his wedding day or at the birth of his first child. Whenever it happened it was always going to be some time in the future, never now. Well, there wasn't anymore future and the only now was the putative voice inside his skull chastising him, or at least that was how Jason perceived it, as being a case of "too little, too late._

_Jason yearned to say it now. It was far less painful, than he thought it would be. That fact actually made it worse because he hadn't done this sooner when it would have counted for more-when more than just Spinelli's voice would be there to receive it. He should have said it when he could have seen Spinelli's green eyes shyly light up and his mouth start to hesitantly smile as he absorbed what Jason was telling him, what he had waited so long to hear. He would give anything to make that fantasy come true…_

_Now was all there was though and so he said it with warmth, tears and verifiable sincerity, "I love you, Spinelli. Pretty much have done all along. I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I'm so glad you came into my life. We may not be connected by blood but you're as much mine as Jake is, even more so because of all the experiences we had together…" The thought of nothing more ever being shared between them was too much for him to contemplate and he stopped speaking. Jason bowed his head resting it on his knees as misery swamped through ever fiber of his being. _

_No more Spinelli bounding through the front door or down the stairs. No more half empty bottles of orange soda popping up on every surface and leaving condensation rings to irritate Jason. No more exuberance, no more hero-worship-how had he ever disdained that or even pretended to? No more conferences about strategy, no more consultations as Spinelli frenetically typed away on his laptop. The most trusted person in his world was gone and all there was in his place was stark, intolerable loneliness. _

_Quietly, a whisper fluttered in his brain, "I know Jason, the Jackal knows, he always did. Still, he thanks his Master for finally putting into words what he indeed did demonstrate time and again through his deeds. The declaration is gratefully acknowledged and entirely reciprocated. I love you as well."_

_Jason smiled sadly; it only took Spinelli dying to get him to tell him he loved him. Was it possible for him to be a bigger jackass?_

"_Only just," was the faintest of statements coursing through his mind accompanied by a faint tinge of laughter. _

_A sudden motion caught out of the corner of his eye caused Jason to jerk his head up abruptly. The fog had become denser but he could just barely make out the next lamppost over, about a hundred feet away. There was a figure standing in the faint glow, something about it-no, him-caused Jason to strain his eyes as he tried to discern more details. He was so familiar-he reminded him of someone…_

_Jason gasped, "Spinelli?" He said it weakly, unsure after everything that had been going on inside his head that he could trust his eyes any more than his mind._

"_Stone Cold," his voice by comparison was almost normal, even comforting. Yet, it sounded cautionary and somewhat worried. That didn't make sense, how could one supernatural form of Spinelli be warning him against another?_

_The figure-it was Spinelli, it really was! He didn't look quite right though. He was dressed in some sort of old fashioned clothes, a suit from the 1940's or '50's instead of his usual uniform of jeans and sweatshirt. He was wearing a hat tipped back on his head while his hair slick with pomade was tucked under it instead of flopping all over the place. _

_As Jason watched him in mesmerized fascination, he leaned back against the lamppost bending one leg behind him for support. Then he reached into his breast pocket and pulling out a cigarette proceeded to light it, the match cupped in his hand sharply illuminated his features for a moment. When the cigarette was lit he took a long pull on it and looking up at the sky exhaled a stretched drag of smoke that almost sparkled as it mixed with the fog and was caught in the lamp light. _

_Jason started to clamber to his feet. He needed to go to him, to see him, to talk to him, to tell him so much. He thought the first thing that he might do is bat that cigarette out of his mouth. Spinelli should know better and he sure as hell wasn't going to lose him a second time around to lung cancer!_

_When Jason was once again upright and starting to take his first step towards Spinelli the voice cut across his mind. "No! Stone Cold, you must not-that way madness lies." It was authoritative and urgent, brooking no refusal. _

_Jason paused unwillingly, he was desperately drawn to the figure standing in the circle of light cast by the lamp. Yet, the voice in his head had said not to, that it was dangerous. He didn't know what to do with the warring Spinelli's. The voice was well-known, soothing even and his first instinct was to trust it. Still, there was Spinelli-he could see him and by crossing a few feet of distance he could be physically next to him, perhaps talk to him, even touch him or hug him. God! How he wanted to do that! A groan of frustration erupted from Jason's lips as he stood in paralyzed indecision._

_Whether it was the sound he emitted or the earlier movement of getting to his feet he didn't know but somehow he had attracted Spinelli's attention. He turned his head toward Jason casting off a smoke ring with practiced ease as he did so. He looked at him, letting his gaze run appraisingly from his feet to his face where their eyes locked onto one another. Then he curved his lips up in a grin that gave Jason chills because it was unlike any smile he had ever seen Spinelli wear. It was cynical, world weary and had a touch of malice to it. While continuing to hold eye contact the Spinelli of the lamp gave a quick nod of his head. It was an obvious invitation for Jason to come over and join in the fun, oh, what enjoyment there was to be had was the implication. _

_Jason swallowed uneasily. The figure wasn't like the voice in his mind, that was the true Spinelli it had all the correct flavors and intonations and spirit, he could feel it. This other Spinelli was skewed somehow. He looked like Spinelli but he didn't behave like him. His eyes were cold, calculating and Jason suddenly realized-entirely lacking in color. As a matter of fact there was no color at all attached to the lamp Spinelli. It hadn't penetrated Jason's consciousness at first. He had been too amazed and happy at seeing him viable and visible to examine him closely. The coalescence of the monochrome colors imposed by the combination of the dark and the fog had delayed his recognition that Spinelli and his immediate surroundings were all black and white like an old movie in the film noir genre. _

_As Jason peered more intently through the ever thickening fog, he saw, actually saw, the lamppost _through_ Spinelli. It wasn't a matter of Spinelli shifting and then the base of the lamp coming into view. No, as he stood there, challenging Jason with those dark and empty eyes, it was possible to see the lamppost as well as the stoop of the brownstone directly behind him. Spinelli was transparent or at least he segued back and forth between transparency and solidity._

_A profound and soul wrenching sense of melancholy came over Jason. The voice had been correct, he couldn't go to Spinelli, if he did his sanity would be forfeit. The worst aspect of the situation was that even with that revelation, there was still a part of him that wanted to cross the void between his lamp and Spinelli's, no matter the personal cost. After all, he was responsible for Spinelli's death. Maybe it was only right that he paid the price with his mind. _

"_No, Jason, that isn't what I would want or desire in the least." He was back speaking in calm and measured tones, trying to reach Jason and pull him from his despondency. "The Jackal wants his Master in and of this world, whole in all ways."_

_Jason smiled wryly, "Can't promise that, Spinelli, not after tonight…" _

_He was still caught in the fiercely intense stare of the wraithlike Spinelli. It seemed that the more concentrated his gaze became the further his physical form dissipated becoming indistinguishable from the surrounding mist. At this point, he was only a vague outline, a kind of Spinelli version of the Cheshire cat. Although it was his penetrating eyes rather than his grin that remained while the rest of him slowly vanished, merging into the fog._

"_You can begin by looking away, Jason. Baby steps." The voice was cajoling and caring. "Please!"_

_That last heartfelt plea did it. Jason couldn't refuse Spinelli, the real one, not after all the times up to and including tonight-which was the most irretrievable example-that he had neglected and failed him. He owed him an honest attempt at trying to stay on the right side of the gulf that separated life and death, sanity and insanity._

_With a palpably difficult twist of his head, Jason managed to severe visual contact with the second Spinelli. He was too frightened to look at him again, unsure of what he might see or he if could even manage a second time to break free from the magnetic attraction he exerted. Instead, Jason opted to turn his back on the other lamp, on the figure that had simultaneously compelled and repulsed him. _

"_Excellent!" Relief and elation at Jason's accomplishment was encompassed in the single word. _

_Jason sagged wearily against his lamppost. He was exhausted from the surreal and heartrending events of the evening and he knew that the night was far from over. _

"_Spinelli?" his voice was rough, hoarse with emotion and fatigue. "You'll stay? You won't go away or leave me?" He was begging for an affirmative response, he couldn't handle one more loss at this moment, he was too fragile._

"_I'm here, Stone Cold, the Jackal is here. For now…" _

_Jason was only partially reassured, he didn't like the tacked on qualifier but for now he held his peace. "I need to go, to find the person responsible for your…" _

_He couldn't finish the sentence, couldn't use the words 'killing' or 'death' or more truthfully, something like 'extinction of my soul'. He knew that Spinelli would understand his meaning. After all, he was enmeshed within his brain. He probably knew what Jason was thinking and planning better than Jason did. _

"_Yes," the reply was sober and thoughtful but at the same time unequivocal._

_Jason was astonished. He had been fully prepared to have a bizarre argument, one that would make him sound like a schizophrenic to an average passerby (thankfully not such an issue on a foggy and cold night like this one). He didn't absolutely know that the term shouldn't be applied to him in all fairness but he could say that he didn't _feel_ crazy. Of course deranged people seldom considered themselves to be unbalanced. _

_No, the amazing thing was that Spinelli wasn't trying to dissuade him from his intended pursuit. He knew that Spinelli knew. No one-not even Damian Spinelli-could reside with Jason Morgan for two plus years and not clearly understand his intent when he talked about 'finding' the people behind the shooting. There would be more deaths in Port Charles this night, it was inevitable. So, why then wasn't Spinelli trying to talk him out of doing what he had to? It wouldn't have done any good but that had never before been enough of a deterrent to prevent Spinelli from offering up his advice or trying to provide moral guidance when he felt it was called for._

_What had changed in the kid so that he was seemingly endorsing an act of cold blooded murder in the pursuit of revenge? Or did his lack of demur simply indicate that he was indeed a figment of Jason's brain. If such a surmise were true then he wouldn't feel called upon to argue with what was so clearly an ingrained response, almost a need, on the part of the once and future mob enforcer. In that case, agreeing with Jason was simply a case of agreeing with himself._

"_The Jackal believes that you should pursue the proponent of this night's nefarious deeds for one and only one reason Stone Cold." _

"_So, there is going to be a discussion," Jason thought, intrigued to hear the forthcoming rationale from peace loving Spinelli. "Which is what?" He prompted._

"_The assailant tried to kill the Jackal's revered and beloved Master and such a cowardly and heinous act cannot go unpunished!" The voice vibrated with outrage and deadly intent._

_Jason sighed, he should have guessed. Spinelli wasn't interested in avenging his own death. No, he wanted the perpetrator to pay because Jason had been the target, had almost caught a bullet and died. "Well," he retorted, making his own motivations crystal clear. "I am going after them because of what they did to you." _

_As he said it, he started to tremble with a renewed mixture of rage and grief. They would pay for what they had taken from Jason Morgan this very night. Neither the assassin who had fired the gun, nor the person who had actually instigated the hit would live to see tomorrow's dawn. Jason knew from the harsh taskmaster that was experience that he wouldn't feel better as a result of the killings. Yet, he had a long established code and he intended to implement it as it was the only immediate way he knew to honor Spinelli's memory and to tell him how much he had truly meant to him. Spinelli's murderers did not get walk for one more day on the Earth's surface since Spinelli himself could not. It was biblical in its simplicity-a life, or two, for a life…_

_Jason had forgotten about the other Spinelli. He had been so involved in his dialogue with the voice of Spinelli and his intentions and the reactivation of his benumbed feelings that he had put the ghostly sighting out of his mind. So, if he wasn't consciously thinking of him and he certainly was no longer looking at him-how then was he hearing the sound that came to him muffled by the fog? It was a giggle, a woman's happy laugh-low and musical. _

_Jason gripped the lamppost, he was rapidly beginning to view it as the one stable and reliable thing in his universe tonight and he wanted the comfort that physical contact with it seemed to provide. Slowly, he pivoted around reluctantly raising his eyes and searching through the murkiness for that other lamp, the one from which he had previously averted his glance._

_Second Spinelli, as he was coming to think of him, was still there and more corporeal then when last Jason had viewed him. He was no longer alone in the cone of lamp light. Standing next to him was a young woman smiling up at him happily. She too was dressed in vintage clothing from the mid-twentieth century. She wore a tight fitted skirt and a matching jacket with a flared bottom. On her feet were a pair of boxy heels. Her hair was pulled back into a chignon and perched on her head was an absurd pointless hat that made her look entirely adorable._

"_Georgie," the word was uttered reverently by Spinelli._

_Jason was startled to realize that he was indeed seeing Georgie Jones standing with Damian Spinelli the second on a deserted Port Charles street corner. She was bright and shiny, young and lovely all shimmer and grace. For a moment Jason's heart ached for Mac as he understood more clearly than ever what he had lost a little over a year ago. _

_This girl, this marvelous girl, had loved his boy and if she had only lived…Jason had sometimes thought about what could have been for the two of them as well matched in temperament and intelligence as they were. He had visualized a future for them including children-well mannered, sweet tempered and bright. He had wanted to be a part of that but it had all died with Georgie the night she had been strangled. _

_Then her sister Maxie had come along to fill the void and Jason had occasionally allowed himself to dream for Spinelli once more. Now, this horrible endless night had put paid to any hopes he had nurtured on behalf of his brother, his son, his friend and ultimately himself. _

_Tears were streaming down his cheeks and blurring his vision as he watched the couple under the light. He was bereft as the full understanding of what had been lost finally hit him. It wasn't just that Spinelli wouldn't be in the penthouse when he returned. It wasn't that he wouldn't see him or be with him-that was all Jason's loss but what about Spinelli's loss? _

_Jason had lived a strange, brutal, and often barren life but he had lived. He had a child-Jake. He had helped raise Michael and Morgan. He had another son, Spinelli-whom he had known for far too short a time. He had loved and been loved in return. He had traveled and knew what it was to feel exhilaration as he cheated death and came back for more._

_Spinelli would never have so many things that people took for granted in life. He hadn't, as far as Jason could tell anyway, been loved even as a child. His grandmother had raised him more in the spirit of duty than with true caring. He came to Port Charles and found people to love-Lulu, Jason, Sam, Maxie and unknowingly Georgie. Yet, none of these people, with the exception of Georgie and her unsent e-mails, had ever expressed their reciprocal love for him. Jason knew that the fact that he had never told Spinelli how much he had loved him would haunt him for the rest of his life. He believed that everyone else that had cared about him would regret not expressing their feelings either._

_So, that was Spinelli's past and present and they both lacked so much. Yet, it was his lost future that Jason couldn't bear to dwell on. Spinelli was brilliant and talented and he would have made his mark in the world. He would have found love with Maxie or someone else, maybe some more like Georgie, and they would have had a family. This time, somehow, Jason would have managed to be a part of it. Now, none of that could happen, would happen. The loss for Spinelli for what should have been was more than Jason could bear to contemplate._

_All that was left of his unrealized dreams and hopes for Spinelli were two insubstantial figures standing together on a misty night under the auspices of a streetlamp. Jason couldn't stand to look at them and see all the vanquished aspirations they represented._

"_She's lovely," it was Spinelli interrupting Jason's musings on his roommate's lost mortality. _

"_Yeah, she is." Jason totally agreed. _

_Together in a sociable silence, they watched the out of time and out of place couple flirting under the lamppost. Spinelli spoke first and Jason could tell from the unconcealed longing in his voice how difficult it was for him to tear his attention away from Georgie even for a moment. _

"_Stone Cold, in your ruminations upon the Jackal's foreshortened lifespan did you never consider his perspective of events?" _

_Jason was puzzled by the question. "What do you mean?"_

"_Well, your analysis of the Jackal's past is correct, perhaps even somewhat sanitized. Your conceptualization of his future is much like that which he perceived for himself." There was a pause as again they both looked over at the neighboring light. "Indeed, it would have been incomplete without your participation, your presence which was always desired in the Jackal's life-never mistake that!" For a moment the voice was almost stern, it was as close to a reprimand as the gentle grasshopper could administer to his Master. "Alas," he continued, his voice colored with deep regret, "Many things in life never come to fruition but it is the process, the journey that most matters."_

"_It isn't right Spinelli!" Jason couldn't help interrupting. "If you hadn't pushed me, if we hadn't even gone there tonight, then you would still have a future. There would still be hope." His voice had turned dull and dead as he sank back into the ever waiting arms of his all consuming grief._

"_Who is to say that your life isn't as valuable as mine? That what you do in your future isn't of as great or even surpassing worth when measured against the unforeseen potential of the Jackal?" _

_There was an intensity and earnestness to his tone that caused Jason to close his eyes as he listened, not wanting to be distracted by the events occurring a short distance away. He needed to comprehend what Spinelli was trying to say to him, even though he desperately wanted to break in again and deny hotly any idea that Jason's life or future was worth one tenth of Spinelli's._

"_It is as Commissioner Scorpio said, I _chose_ you, to save you because you are of importance and not just to the Jackal no matter how keenly you attempt to deny that fact. You would have many mourners at your gravesite Jason and it is indeed fortunate that they need not mark that painful occasion. Please, do not belittle my feelings for you as you would not have the Jackal decry yours for him. I am glad that you are alive and well. While I would prefer to be standing shoulder to shoulder with you thereby making this sad conversation unnecessary, I am content with the outcome as you would be were the situation reversed."_

"_Well, I'm not!" Jason said it harshly, abruptly. He was unable to accept what he considered to be mere rationalizations on Spinelli's part. "I caused this all of it. My choices created this situation. I pushed away everyone but you Spinelli because I couldn't let you go but I couldn't protect you either and because of me you paid the ultimate price."_

"_It was for me to pay if I so wished Stone Cold. The aspect of my recent life that you neglected to recognize is how happy the Jackal was to be in yours and Maximista's lives and to have had Lulu as a friend and so many of the other good people of this city. You gave the Jackal a home, security, respect and friendship. You might never have said directly that you loved me but I deduced it long since The Jackal would wish Stone Cold to at least set his mind at ease concerning that one issue even if he can't with sundry others."_

"_I'll try," Jason said gruffly as he fought back more tears. "You are the most…" he searched for a word and settled on one, "irritating person I know Spinelli. Here I am trying to feel sorry for myself, to hate myself for what I did to you. Meanwhile, all you can do is tell me how worthwhile a person I am and what an honor it was to sacrifice yourself for me. You make it impossible for me to go on a bender or to put my fist through a wall without it being a reflection on your memory, your actions. You sure know how to ruin a guy's self destructive tendencies."_

"_The Jackal doesn't quite remember referring to it as an honor, Stone Cold," the voice was lighter and had a teasing quality to it as Spinelli seemed to recognize that Jason had pulled back from the brink of an emotional tailspin. "The Jackal is in most cases a strong advocate of retreat being the better part of valor. Yet, sometimes situations are such that only a certain reaction is feasible and the Jackal has not one iota of regret for the choices he made this evening."_

_Jason nodded his head in acknowledgment, "Then that only leaves one thing for me to say. Thank you, Spinelli, thank you for saving me and I will try and _honor_," he paused with a twisted grin as he emphasized the last word, "your choice, your memory by the way I live the rest of my life." _

"_It will be a long life, Stone Cold?" Spinelli questioned him closely herein lay the heart of the matter. Jason knew how serious and intent his green eyes would be if he were looking into them at this moment._

"_As long as nature intends," he allowed wearily, recognizing defeat when he saw it. _

"_The Jackal is well satisfied," Jason could hear the clear relief in Spinelli's voice. "Yet, not with such uncalled for actions as those... Unhand her you fiend!" _

_Spinelli's growling tone and uncharacteristically angry words caused Jason to look over at the other lamp. He immediately saw what had so distressed his brother. Second Spinelli had pulled an unresisting Georgie to him and bending her back in his arms he was kissing her fully and passionately on the lips. As a matter of fact…Jason had to blink his eyes rapidly and then look again to make sure what he was seeing was real. Second Spinelli was no longer in a suit and a fedora hat. Instead he was now attired in the Donald Duck costume of a sailor as he kissed an extremely responsive Georgie-herself presently dressed in a white nurse's uniform. _

_The scene was evocative and Jason vaguely remembered seeing a photograph identical to this in an old magazine. It was taken in Times Square in New York City on the day that Japan capitulated, marking the end of World War Two. He realized he was being treated to a restaging of VJ day. Behind the couple, Jason could see the vague silhouettes of bystanders watching them kiss. In addition, there were even faintly discernible architectural shapes that indelibly marked it as occurring smack in the middle of New York City's eternal heart-Times Square._

_As Jason gaped incredulously at the smooching couple, he heard Spinelli snort resentfully in his head, "Poseurs!" _

_He felt indignant on behalf of his boy and without conscious thought the words spilled out, "You should totally take her away from him!"_

"_It is indeed high on the Jackal's to do list, after certain other more pressing matters have been attended to." His voice was regretful but firm._

_Second Spinelli had raised his head as he still held a dazed Georgie in his arms. He looked over at Jason and smirked knowingly. Jason just glared back at him. He didn't understand how he could ever have thought for a single second that this…this imposter was Spinelli. _

_Unperturbed, Second Spinelli pulled Georgie upright and twirled her around as though they had been dancing rather than kissing. Their movements blurred and when they stopped they each were once again dressed as they had been previously. Georgie laughed up at him, the love glowing from her face made her look young and vulnerable. Jason itched to pull her from his arms and present her to her rightful soul mate._

_The mournful notes of the fog horn sounded and then transformed into the wail of a saxophone. Second Spinelli and Georgie simultaneously tilted their heads towards the sound of the music. Without any visible consultation they linked arms and began to walk away. Second Spinelli paused, pulling his arm free, and turned back to look at Jason. He removed his hat from his head and bending at the waist he bowed low. As he replaced the hat, he maliciously grinned once more and winked at him. Then he tucked Georgie's arm securely in his and together they vanished into the mist, the final notes of the saxophone solo providing a soundtrack for their exit. _

"_Show's over for the night," Spinelli tried to sound matter of fact but Jason could hear the underlying tremor in his voice that bespoke his yearning for Georgie._

"_You're worth a thousand of him," he tried in vain to console him. _

"_So the Jackal saw with his…Stone Cold's eyes. Sweet Georgie was so very repelled by the ardent attentions of the dark one." His tone was mournful and tinged with sarcasm._

_Jason had no idea what to say. For one thing, at this point in time, Spinelli was only a voice emanating from his brain. He didn't really see how he could compete on a fair playing field with Damian the Second who might have been a ghost or a spirit but at least he could walk and talk and possessed some pretty nifty legerdemain skills. Anyway, Jason knew if he were being absolutely honest, he didn't _want _Spinelli to pursue Georgie because then he would leave Jason and he wasn't ready for that yet. The way he felt right now, he would never be ready for it._

_So, in an effort to divert his focus, Jason reminded him of his still as yet unfulfilled need for retribution. "Spinelli, I'm going to the penthouse to get some stuff and then I'm heading out…" _

_He intentionally trailed off the sentence, hoping that Spinelli would jump in and tell his mentor that he would 'indeed accompany him' or that "the Jackal has Stone Cold's back in this most valiant and dangerous of missions." After all, one of the few benefits that Jason could see in having Spinelli existing solely as a voice rather than a flesh and blood person is that he could take him along on his nocturnal revenge operation and not have to worry about anything happening to him. He couldn't bear to be separated-even temporarily-from this last vestige of Spinelli-imaginary or not. _

_Several moments passed, while Jason waited anxiously for a response. He began to wonder if Spinelli had left him to follow Georgie. Or perhaps he had reconsidered his whole position on the payback that Jason planned to extract tonight and now wanted nothing more to do with it. Jason couldn't stand the stillness for another second and just as he was opening his mouth to say something, anything to get Spinelli to answer him the voice finally replied._

"_The Jackal has been considering a potential plan of action that has ramifications, beneficial ones, which will extend beyond the less than salutary act of proposed reprisal." Spinelli's voice was slow and thoughtful as though he were formulating the parts of his scheme as he spoke._

_It took Jason a moment to interpret what Spinelli had just said and he felt the need to clarify it, to be sure he understood. "Are you saying that there is some way of turning tonight-what happened, what will happen-to our advantage?" He couldn't imagine what good could possibly come from the stark loss he had suffered this evening. _

"_Does Stone Cold know the definition of a tragedy?" The question came out of left field and further confused Jason._

"_What?" Was all the response Jason could manage to Spinelli's apparent non sequitur. He was still wrestling with the perturbing idea of a productive outcome resulting from tonight's events._

"_A tragedy, Stone Cold is when a terrible thing-a death, for instance-occurs through the agency of man. It is unlike an incident that is out of the control of man such as an earthquake or a natural forest fire-those tend to be referred to as cataclysms. What happened tonight would be classified as a tragedy."_

_Jason couldn't agree more, but he failed to grasp Spinelli's point, "So?"_

"_Well, if man has put something asunder, should it not also be up to man to put it right as well?"_

_Jason didn't really have much experience with Socratic dialogues or whatever the hell Spinelli was doing tonight. He just wanted to get on with things. His finger was itching to pull a trigger _that_ was his way of dealing with tragedies or cataclysms or anything that might cross his path and in so doing cause him problems._

_. _

_His impatience showed, "Spit it out Spinelli, I haven't got all night." _

_Immediately he regretted what he had said. Spinelli didn't have tonight at all. Or, looking at it another way, you could say he had endless nights, infinite time for philosophical discussions with Jason because time was irrelevant to him now-there wasn't anything else for him to do. _

"_I'm sorry. God, Spinelli, I am so sorry!" Jason was almost crying as remorse flooded him and as he remembered all the times he had snapped at his loyal friend. Yet, Spinelli had only ever countered with forbearance and understanding. It seemed that Jason never did learn-he was such an idiot!_

"_Don't apologize, Stone Cold. The Jackal's tendency to digress has been enhanced in his current state of being. There seems to be little sensation of time in this plane of existence which he is presently occupying. He will make a concerted effort to be more succinct."_

"_You have a plan?" _

_Jason was trying to get them both back on track with the night's activities. He actually was interested to hear what Spinelli had on his or, as it might be the case-Jason's mind. Spinelli was intelligent and intuitive and his interpretation of past situations had led him to give Jason valuable advice. _

"_Indeed, the Jackal does have a strategy in mind." He could hear the cockiness in the young man's voice and Jason found himself grinning in reaction._

"_Well, what is it?"_

"_Stone Cold has recently neutralized the Russian mafia within the boundaries of Port Charles. That leaves the city under the jurisdiction of two organizations-yours and the Zacchara-Corinthos operation. During his relatively short tenure residing in this city, the Jackal cannot recollect a time when true peace has reigned. It has always been a case of one group on the downswing and another on the ascendancy, challenges and counter challenges. Well, Stone Cold gets the Jackal's drift..."_

"_Yeah," Jason was intrigued though he still wasn't quite sure what Spinelli was thinking. "Go on," he urged._

"_Well, it occurred to the Jackal that we could use Stone Cold's natural inclination for retaliation to effect a larger outcome. We could rid Port Charles of all mob influence except for yours and in thus, ensure a future wherein there would never be any competitors."_

_Jason just stood there stunned. He fully understood what Spinelli was recommending and it made complete sense to him. He could use what had happened tonight as a natural reason to go after the Zacchara-Corinthos organization. It was expected that he would react with violence, even by the very people he was hunting-it was an accepted convention in their world._

"_Spinelli," he breathed his name in total admiration. "You're brilliant!"_

"_Modesty prevails, Stone Cold. The Jackal would blush could he but." _

"_If mine were the only remaining organization in the city, I could protect my power base. I could make sure no one ever again encroached on my territory." Jason ran his hands through his hair in amazement as he thought about all the implications of such a result. "There would be no more battles, no shootings, no mob wars." He gave an incredulous laugh, "I could keep them all safe, all of them-Elizabeth, Jake, Cameron, Carly, Morgan…" The list was endless. _

"_Stone Cold, the Jackal hates to dampen your exhilaration, but counting one's chickens prior to hatching…" His voice was somber. "In order to achieve this worthy goal, you will be required to perform a most difficult task. The Jackal entirely comprehends if it isn't within your capacity to do so."_

_Jason immediately understood what Spinelli was talking about. His momentary euphoria evaporated as he remembered why this discussion wasn't taboo as it would have been on any previous evening. His eyes turned slate blue and his face hardened. Anyone catching his eye in that moment would prudently avert their gaze and move away from him. _

"_It isn't a problem, Spinelli. You don't need to worry about that. I only wish I had made it clearer to you sooner that I would always choose you, always." _

_This was the moment that Jason should be able to put his hands on Spinelli's shoulders and look him directly in the eyes as he affirmed his allegiance and his love to him. The person who had taken that option, that opportunity away from him was as good as dead. Jason would make sure of it and there was nothing that could be said or done to stop him. _

"_I'm grateful beyond words, Jason. Many thanks." He sounded close to tears, for the first time in his life Damian Spinelli was the chosen one. _

_Jason couldn't waste another minute, he had a fallen comrade to avenge and a future to secure. "Let's go," he said grimly, "The Jackal and Stone Cold have work to do." He strode off into the mist, secure in the knowledge that his brother had his back. _


End file.
